J'aime les Cheerios
by DumbHumanLikeYou
Summary: Blaine finds a certain fourteen-and-a-half minute video online, which makes Kurt look back on part of the life he left behind at McKinley.


_You look like you are thoroughly enjoying that history book. :P_

Kurt glanced at the note, then looked up and glared at Blaine from across the table. He certainly was _not_ enjoying his history book. Dalton Academy had many great things going for it, but Kurt's least-favorite aspect of the school was tutorial – the mandatory forty-five minute study that the entire student body had after lunch. It was like recess, only exhaustively boring.

Kurt had been quick to complain to Blaine about the tediousness of tutorial, to which the older boy responded by suggesting they both attempt to get library passes on the same day, and save one another from homework.

"It can be our own private getaway," he had said.

Kurt tried not to smile from the memory as he stared at the chapter on Chinese dynasties. Blaine was eagerly typing away on his laptop, working on a term paper. Kurt grabbed the notebook with which they passed their notes back and forth, thinking of what to say. He couldn't think of anything witty, and couldn't think of anything personal to say that didn't scream _Blaine, I love you, please kiss me now_, so he decided to stick with small talk.

_You're typing up a storm over there. When's that paper due?_

Blaine laughed silently before replying.

_Sixth period. _

Kurt gave an overdramatic look of shock before shaking his head and rubbing his two index fingers together, the universal 'tsk tsk' sign. Blaine grinned and grabbed the notebook back, writing again.

_There was a Bridezillas marathon on last night. That show's addictive. You would have done the same thing. I'm almost done. _

Kurt had barely finished reading when the notebook was torn away from him again.

_Done._

Sighing, Kurt looked down at his half-finished worksheet. Blaine had this magical ability to flirt _and_ be productive, while the closest thing to Asian History Kurt had done was pass notes to the cute Filipino across the table. He continued to fill out his questions while Blaine pulled a pair of earphones out of his messenger bag and plugged them into his laptop.

A few minutes passed in silence until a laugh escaped from Blaine's lips. He covered his mouth, but Kurt could tell from the look in his eyes that he was wearing his infamous wide grin. Kurt leaned over and wrote a large question mark on the notebook.

Blaine passed the notebook back. _Nothing, don't worry about it._

Kurt was confused. He and Blaine never hid anything from each other. At the beginning of their friendship Blaine had told him they should be completely open about everything. There were some things they confided in each other that only the other person knew, such as Kurt's unfortunate kiss with Dave Karofsky. Why was Blaine hiding something now?

Kurt drew another, larger question mark. Blaine quickly wrote a response, barely taking his eyes off of the computer screen.

_Just something on YouTube. _

Confused, Kurt stared at Blaine's sloppy cursive. What could possibly be on the internet that Blaine wouldn't tell Kurt about? None of New Directions' performances had ended up online, and now that Kurt was a Warbler, Blaine wouldn't have needed to hide videos from their previous competitions away from him. Maybe it was a clip featuring one of Blaine's celebrity crushes. But he had already told Kurt his top five man-crushes: Nathan Fillion, Ewan MacGregor, Jonathan Rhys Myers, James Marsden, and James Franco. Not that Kurt had memorized that list and spent an entire weekend comparing the men against each other, trying to figure out what Blaine's type was. No, not at all.

Kurt was so lost in thought that he barely heard Blaine whisper, "Oh wow, there's fourteen-and-a-half minutes of this." But he did hear, and his head snapped up.

He knew exactly what Blaine was watching.

Kurt grabbed the notebook, not bothering to turn the page, instead writing on top of the previous conversation before shoving it back towards Blaine.

_NO_.

He got flashed a puppy-dog-eyed smile from Blaine, and normally his heart would have melted. Not this time. Kurt leaned across the table as far as he could.

"You are _not_ watching my Cheerios video."

Blaine laughed, and got shushed by the librarian from across the room. He continued to giggle silently until he saw that Kurt was dead serious.

"It's just a video, Kurt. I'm surprised you never told me you were a cheerleader."

"There was a reason why I never told you," Kurt hissed, earning a deathly glare from the librarian. Sure, Cheerios were at the top of the proverbial pyramid at McKinley High, but Dalton didn't have anything close to cheerleading. He was sure that if Blaine or any of his other classmates saw the Nationals video, they would laugh at the fact that Kurt was the only male on the team that wasn't there for the purpose of lifting the girls.

"Kurt, it's not embarrassing – "

"It is to me!"

"But it's really – "

"NO."

Blaine sighed, accepting defeat, and closed his laptop. "Fine, if you don't want me to watch it, I'll respect that." The bell rang, signaling the beginning of fifth period. "I've got to go print out this paper. See you at rehearsal."

Kurt watched as Blaine walked away without giving him a hug, a goodbye he had grown accustomed to. _Maybe I had been a little too harsh about the video_, he thought as he made his way to AP French.

The class went by slowly as Kurt found himself not really paying attention. He didn't need to learn how to conjugate verbs anymore. The intense tutoring last year for his Celine Dion solo made him so fluent in the language that he was the only boy his age in the advanced class; Blaine, despite being a year older, was still in French III. If it weren't for Sue Sylvester and the Cheerios, Kurt wouldn't be the first non-senior at Dalton Academy to ever take AP French, something he was excited to put on his college applications.

As he looked out the window, he thought back to his time as a Cheerio. He had gotten a considerable amount of respect from his classmates when he wore the tight-fitting uniform. He used to complain to Mercedes about not being able to wear the latest trends, but here he was now in the same blazer and dress pants as all his classmates. Of the two uniforms, Kurt probably would have chosen his Cheerios getup, which he thought flattered him better.

There was a lot he missed about being on the Cheerios, he realized. His relationships with Santana and Brittany had moved from casual-glee-club-teammates to moderately good friends. He had become friendly with all of the Cheerios, a few of whom he would make small talk with when passing through the halls. He also missed the feeling of coming away from an intense practice sore yet accomplished. And winning Nationals had been a fantastic feeling, especially the thrill at seeing his dad come all the way to Denver to sit front and center at a cheerleading competition for him. He had read through his copy of the judges' ballots on the way home, and beamed the entire flight at their praise.

Maybe Blaine was right. Being a cheerleader wasn't embarrassing.

It was empowering.

Once the day had ended, Kurt rushed into the Warblers' rehearsal space before anyone else had arrived. He turned on the room's desktop; one of the perks of going to an expensive private school was that every classroom had its own computer and projector. The video had just finished loading as the first few Warblers made their way into the classroom, Blaine being one of them. He looked confused as Kurt pulled down the projector screen.

"Kurt? What are you doing?" he asked.

Kurt simply smiled and pressed play.

Stepping off to the side of the room, Kurt felt a small wave of embarrassment come over him as he heard himself sing French beneath a solo spotlight. However, once the tempo picked up and the rest of the Cheerios joined him on the gym floor, he found himself enjoying the presentation. So were a lot of the Warblers, he noted as he looked around the room. Many of them were captivated by the short skirts and high-intensity dance moves, and a few wolf whistles were let loose when the camera focused on Santana's grinding.

He looked over at Blaine, who had frozen in the center of the room, completely immersed in the video. He wished he could read minds find out what Blaine thought of the performance. If he had possessed that ability, he would have known that Blaine was both admiring Kurt's ability to do a round-off while hitting a high A and the way the polyester of the uniform clung perfectly to his chest.

As the video finally ended, he was bombarded with questions from his classmates. Most of them were asking if they could have Santana's number, but he replied to the others.

"That was our performance at Nationals," he answered.

"How did you guys do?" Nick Davies asked.

"Did you just watch that video? We won, obviously. For the sixth time in a row."

"Really?"

"The trophy is taller than I am," Kurt laughed. "It's currently sitting behind bulletproof glass in the New Directions choir room. They use it as motivation to get to nationals this year."

Mr. McCoy, advisor of the Warblers, caught the end of the conversation as he walked in the door. "Then we should get motivated to do well at Sectionals to stop them."

Kurt walked over to his bag to pull out his sheet music, and his fingers grazed over terry cloth as he reached in. Smiling, he took off his blazer and rolled the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows before sliding the red wristband halfway up his forearm and turning to join his new team.


End file.
